


Letters to My Son

by entrenched



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-09-30 11:27:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10162127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entrenched/pseuds/entrenched
Summary: It felt like an eternity since Regis had seen such a glow radiate from his son, such a warmth that contested the sun above. If only for a moment, the haggard father swelled with pride that he could attain such praise from his only son.(Flashfics of Regis and Noct)





	1. Fishing School

**Author's Note:**

> Remember when I said I wouldn't write for this fandom anymore? Well...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regis takes Noct fishing.

****Noctis had known Prompto for approximately six hours.

For someone he just met, the blond was extremely talkative. He talked about hobbies, the weather, food…  _everything._ Not having had too much experience with friends himself, Noctis chose to let the boy go. The level of ease with which Prompto talked was mildly comforting to him, as it felt like the two had known each other for six years, not six hours.  

“Hey, do you like video games?” Prompto asked brightly as the two stopped in front of the double doors of an arcade.

“Yeah, I do,” Noctis replied. To be honest, he enjoyed being around the blond so much that he would have probably said yes even if he  _didn’t_  like video games. Noctis liked the company and wasn’t quite willing to break it up now.

The two stepped inside the arcade, a burst of cool air ruffling the tops of their heads. They surveyed the dimly lit arcade as Prompto chatted on about each game they passed. Noctis hummed and nodded occasionally as his new friend spoke, not quite sure where to insert himself in Prompto’s stream of commentary.

Noctis slowed at the sight of two-paneled arcade machine. The arcade screen was framed by shimmering blue plastic waves with a bright green fish leaping out at the top. Noctis’s face contorted into a crooked smile, probably the first break in his stoic demeanor that afternoon. 

“D’you want to try it?” Prompto asked from behind. He peered up at Noctis and laughed softly. “That’s the happiest I’ve seen you all day. Let’s try it!”

As Prompto shoved in silver coins from his pocket, Noctis continued to stare amusedly at the fishing simulator. Before he knew it, his new friend was shoving a fishing reel in his hands. Noctis sized up the reel, noting how much lighter and less complex it was than a real fishing reel. He didn’t have much time to measure it up as the game’s loud country theme signaled him to cast the line.

Noctis cocked his shoulder back slightly and flicked his wrist hard, with just enough pressure to hit the game’s target dead in the water. Prompto watched in awe as his dark-haired companion reeled in three consecutive fish, bringing the round of fishing to an end.

“Wow!” Prompto yelled, clapping a hand on Noctis’s shoulder. “You’re really good at that!”

“Yeah…” Noctis muttered, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. “I really like fishing.”

* * *

  
“Dad, your jacket looks stupid.”

“Noct.”

“Dad, it smells weird.” 

“Noct.” 

“Daaaaad, can we go now?”

“ _Noct._ ”

To be fair, the Vesperpool did smell a bit weird that morning. The sun had barely broken through the horizon as Regis journeyed with his son to the vast fishing spot far from home. It was not something the king did often since he was normally busy, as Noctis often told Ignis, “doing what kings do.” 

“That’s what dad tells me,” the boy often said with a touch of disappointment.

Even after Noctis’s return from Tenebrae, it was apparent that the boy had lost much of his energetic sparkle following his injury years prior. The stark change in personality fueled a latent guilt within Regis, one which he was rarely able to act on while he was constantly steeped in political chaos. More often than not, Regis would release a heavy sigh at the end of the day, disappointed in himself that he was not there for what seemed to be a shadow of his son.

At the end of a particularly brutal day, rife with dignitaries and high-browed standoffs, Regis found his mind floating elsewhere.  As he was escorted home, the man’s tired eyes stared out the tinted car window, drifting to a quieter time… with his son… doing things together…

In peace.

“Daaaaaaaad…”

“Noctis,” Regis responded firmly. “Can you get me a lure?”

The boy sat in a beach chair beside Regis, begrudgingly sifting through the assortment of colorful lures and lines in the tackle box. Young Noctis placed a Great Malboro lure into his father’s hand, his pale cheeks still puffed in irritation that he was spending a perfectly good Saturday morning at the crack of dawn at a smelly lake.

“Good choice, son,” Regis said warmly, looping the bright yellow lure in fishing line.

Before today, Regis had taken Noctis fishing on one or two other occasions, when he was much younger and energetic. Unfortunately, Noctis’s childhood accident resolutely struck down the idea of father-son fishing as a routine. Since that time, the boy soured at the prospect of doing almost anything before noon, opting to remain in the safety and silence of his own bed for most of the morning. But something in Regis felt almost compelled to bring the boy into the cool morning light that day, reintroducing him to the beauty of nature and warmth by his father’s side.

“Daaaaad…” Noctis began to whine, half-hoping his constant pleas would yield half the response he wanted: leave.

“Look, Noct,” Regis started evenly, a crease forming at the side of his temple. “I’m sorry I woke you up, but I am glad you came out with me this morning.” 

‘ _No need to scold the boy,_ ’ the man thought. 

At the back of his mind, Regis acknowledged that it may have been a bit cruel to drag the boy out to do something he was not well-suited for, at least not yet. Fishing required a fair bit of patience, something Noctis always lacked but lost even more of after returning from Tenebrae. Fishing also required strength, something which Noctis was regaining at a slow pace. In the end, all Noctis was going to do this morning was watch his dad from his chair.

Noctis kicked his dangling legs from the beach chair, elbows propped on the large tacklebox on his lap. 

‘ _I want to go home,_ ’ the boy thought as he watched as his father surveyed the vast side of the east bank. To Noctis, fishing was such a time-consuming practice and always wondered why his father enjoyed it so much. Somedays, when Regis returned home from a full day of fishing, he would show off the single fish he had caught and Noctis's only thought would be ' _One fish... in_ eight hours? _'_

“Oh!” Noctis heard his father call.

The boy raised his head and watched as his father successfully pull a medium-sized Vesper Gar from the water. Noctis raised an eyebrow in mild interest, fascinated that his father caught something so quickly. Fortunately or unfortunately for Noctis, Regis was keenly aware of his son’s reaction and returned a warm smile. The boy responded by ducking his face into his elbows, seemingly embarrassed at his show of something close to excitement.

‘ _The least I can do is make this fun for you,_ ’ Regis thought as he placed the fish into a large cooler.

Noctis watched as his aging father readjusted the sparkling lure and surveyed the lakeside once again. He stared – with more intensity than he would have liked to admit – as his father cocked his shoulder back slightly and flicked his wrist hard. The lure sailed swiftly through the cold morning air and shot into the lake water.

In the light of day, young Noctis never noticed how  _strong_  his father looked.  It may have been the fact that his father was no longer robed in layers of deep black and instead hugged tightly by a bright blue fishing jacket, shining in the morning light. The boy stared in growing amazement as his father’s shoulder and calf muscles tightened in unison, reactive to the fish struggling below.

“This should be a big one,” Regis said happily as he pulled his pole back.

Noctis continued to watch his father battle the fish below the dark waters. 

Regis’s burly frame cast a long shadow against Noctis, and in that moment, the boy never felt so small. But he felt small in an oddly endearing way; the way a son  _would_  feel with his father. The ever aging king, stricken by wrinkles of stress and sickness, looked so mighty as he leaned back to pull the fish in.

Being born into royalty, Noctis never found his father intimidating, lest he were being scolded. On most occasions, Noctis felt his father was no more special than anyone else’s father. Yet, something seemed to gather all the kingly energy that seemed to come with the king’s cloak and throne and thrust it into Regis’s soft jacket.

Noctis was in awe.

“Yes!” Regis exclaimed as he pulled an enormous fish from the water, its olive green scales casting pins of light onto the wooden dock. 

“Ooooh!” 

Noctis leapt out of the beach chair, abandoning the large tacklebox to the seat.

“That was so  _cool_!” the boy yelled as he approached his father and the fish, which may have been as tall as Noctis. “Fishing king! More! More!”

It felt like an eternity since Regis had seen such a glow radiate from his son, such a warmth that contested the sun above. If only for a moment, the haggard father swelled with pride that he could attain such praise from his only son.

Noctis stared up at his father’s face, droplets of sweat trickling down his wrinkled face and harboring an all-too familiar look of exhaustion.

“I think we’re done for today, Noct,” Regis apologized. “The king is tired.”

Noctis’s face fell, genuinely saddened that the spectacle was over. He then took his father by the hand – he needed both hands to clutch one of his father’s – and guided his father to sit at the beach chair. 

A throne fit for the Fishing King.

“It’s okay, dad,” Noctis said. “We can continue next time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally a meme-fill for this prompt: http://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/3016.html?thread=1608648
> 
> The puffy fishing jacket is totally a family heirloom.
> 
> Next: In the Bushes, in which Regis meets Prompto for the first time.


	2. In the Bushes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regis questions his parenting and finds a body in a bush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really silly.

“C’mon, Ignis.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Can he even do  _that_?”

“As king, I’m quite sure he has double the authority to do  _that_.” Ignis said with a huff. “Now, stop trying to persuade me to sneak you out of here and, for the nth time,  _stop touching it._ ” 

Noctis stared as his reflection as he pouted in irritation, brushing his fingertips cautiously over a deep welt blooming squarely on his left cheekbone.

“Argh, it hurts…” Noctis hissed as he drew his hand away.

“Which is exactly I told you to  _stop_  touching it,” Ignis growled, adjusting his bag strap across his shoulder. “Now, I’m leaving for tonight, so I can trust that you will behave yourself?”

“Yes, mom.”

Ignis rubbed the bridge of his nose as his eyebrows knitted together, forming a set of creases upon his forehead. “Noct, please,” he sighed heavily. “This is serious. I know you don’t like it and frankly, neither do I. But you know I respect his Highness’s decision, right?”

“Yeah,” Noctis sighed as he buried his face into his elbows. He winced as his arm made contact with his cheek.

“I still don’t understand how you let something like this happen though,” Ignis remarked absently. “I thought I taught you better than this.”

“I said I’m really sorry, alright?” 

“I understand,” Ignis replied in an oddly soothing tone. “But you must realize what an incident like this can do to your reputation…"

“I said  _I know._ ” 

Noctis turned away from Ignis and continued to bury his face into his elbows. With a deep exhale, Ignis turned his heel and headed for the door.

“There’s dinner on the table,” he said with a touch of resignation. “Better eat it before it gets cold.”

 

* * *

  
The Regalia rolled up to the curb by the apartment, bright headlights flashing in the Insomniac night. The streets were unusually quiet, normally bustling with nightlife even on the weekdays. Regis examined his reflection against the car’s dark tint, tired eyes framed by a mix of age lines and faded battle scars.

Regis’s distant thoughts were brought crashing down as a hand rapped against the car window.

“Your Highness,” said the deep voice of a Crownsguard soldier. “We’ve detected a disturbance around the rear of the apartment complex. Please remain seated until we have investigated and cleared the disturbance.”

“Understood,” Regis said calmly. “Carry on.” Historically and probably appropriately, the king’s security was at an all-time high, even on days he went to meet his son. As a result, it took roughly half an hour longer to enter the building due to such “disturbances,” ranging anywhere from cats on trees and…

“You Highness!” called another soldier from the outside. “We’ve detected a body in the bushes! A teenage male!”

While Regis’s face maintained its regal placidity, his eyebrow twitched slightly as a disturbing thought crossed his mind.

_‘Certainly, Noct wouldn’t…’_  he thought. 

Almost instinctively, Regis pulled on the luxurious car’s door handle and strode toward the congregation of soldiers gathered at the rear end of the apartment. The circle of soldiers clustered at the base of a tree and the surrounding shrubbery. Sticking haphazardly out of the brush were the long limbs of a boy, trembling and staring fearfully at the barrel of a soldier’s gun.

_‘Noctis’s school uniform…'_  

“Stand down, men,” Regis growled. While the king’s deep tenor was not particularly loud, the vibrations from his voice seemed to incite enough fear in the soldiers to create a rift in the circle of men for the king to pass.

Regis kneeled down and eased the tension in his eyebrows as the young man’s bright blue eyes met his.

“Good evening, son,” the king said softly.

“I’m so sorry,” he blurted to nobody in particular as he attempted to untangle himself from the bush. “It’s not what it looks like…”  

“Would you mind explaining what is going on here?”

“Ah, right, I’m sorry your Highness,” the boy apologized. He hissed in pain as he struggled to sit upright. “I’m…” 

“Prompto,” Regis finished. 

“Yes, sir,” he replied. “Wait, you know me, sir?” 

Regis did not tear away his old eyes from the lanky boy in the bush. His golden hair was tousled from what he could only assume was a fall from a relatively high tree. It also seemed that Prompto’s face, already tinted with freckles, was growing a deeper shade of red – either from collateral facial injuries or sheer embarrassment at their untimely interaction. 

“Noctis speaks of you often,” the king said as he swatted a series of stray leaves off Prompto’s shoulder. 

Almost taken aback by the comment, Prompto smiled with the knowledge that his friend took the time to talk about him to the king. Unfortunately, his smile and an attempt at laughter sent a surge of pain running down his spine. Prompto recoiled and whimpered softly.

“Again, son,” Regis said sternly. “Can you explain what is going on here?”

“Oh, it’s a funny story when you think about it,” Prompto started with a nervous laugh. He paused and mentally backpedaled, becoming increasingly aware that he was still surrounded by a dozen soldiers. “Well, I, uh… I wanted to visit…” 

“Oh?” Regis raised a curious eyebrow.

“But… the guards up front wouldn’t let me in…” Prompto continued slowly. “And Noct wouldn’t answer his phone… so he couldn’t let me in…”  

“So you decided to scale the building,” Regis said flatly. He half-hoped the stupidity of Prompto’s antics alone was enough to punctuate the ridiculousness of the present situation. 

“Yeah…” Prompto blushed awkwardly.

“And did my son care to mention what floor he lives on?” 

Regis watched as Prompto looked down at his palm, which was smudged with blue ink. “I think it was 6…?” The boy tilted his palm from side-to-side, squinting at his own handwriting. “Or 9…?” It occurred to Prompto that, in retrospect, it may not have been a great idea to scale the building with the same hands he wrote the directions on...

“Prompto, it seems my dear son may have missed a few dozen floors.” Regis said in the same peaceful tone he maintained throughout the evening. 

As Prompto groaned in exasperation, Regis continued. “More importantly, you may want to have that head of yours checked.” 

“Yeah,” Prompto muttered, blush growing deeper. “I should have thought this through a little more carefully, huh?”

Regis edged closer to Prompto. “While I certainly believe that you should  _never_  consider doing this again, that’s not quite what I mean.” he said. Regis placed a gentle hand at the base of Prompto’s neck, triggering a soft shudder. The king drew his hand away and held up two fingers before Prompto’s blue eyes.

His fingers were coated in deep red.

“You seem to have hit your head.”

Prompto ran his hands quickly through his hair, eyes widening as his hands moved closer to the point of impact.

“Men, clear a path,” Regis commanded. The king offered his arm to Prompto for stability. The boy whimpered as he rose from the ground. He hadn’t realized just how painful the fall was until he was upright.

The guards lined a path to the entrance of the apartment, leading the king and intruder inside. As they walked, Regis began to notice Prompto’s steps grow slower. 

_‘A concussion maybe?’_

Fortunately, they had reached the elevator with little injury. Flanked by two guardsmen, the two entered the lift and had a fair amount of time to talk freely. 

“Prompto,” Regis said softly to the boy draped over his shoulder. Having had numerous experiences with injury, the king was well aware that the boy would fare much better awake than asleep. “May I ask you something?” 

Prompto raised his head slightly, attempting to lock his unfocused eyes to the king’s. “Yeah, sure.” 

“Why were you so desperate to see Noct that you would sneak into the apartment?” 

“Actually, your Highness, I wanted to talk to you, not Noct,” Prompto replied quietly.

“To me?” Regis was genuinely taken aback. On a regular basis, people sought audience with the king, and even when people did get their chances, they came days or weeks after the original request. 

Regis grinned sadly at the blond boy, now slouched at the railing of the elevator lift.  _‘Noct may have also failed to mention that I rarely come here.’_  He couldn’t quite fault Noctis, since it was virtually common knowledge that the king lived elsewhere.

“Ignis told me Noct is grounded and is restricted from leaving,” Prompto said absently. “I wanted to tell you that he didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You…”  

Prompto raised his head pleadingly at the king. “He always keeps to himself and he never causes any trouble at school.” The boy continued to explain, speaking faster and slightly louder. All the while, his eyes remained closed, possibly agitated by the elevator’s bright lights.

“I was taking photos at school and some guy started going on about how I was shooting photos of his girl,” the boy said. “He grabbed my collar and tried to hit me, but Noct came in.” 

“…”

“Your son, he protected me,” Prompto said sadly. 

“Prompto.”

“I know it probably doesn’t look good for a prince to be in a fight,” Prompto rambled, words beginning to slur. “But he was really heroic, you know? Fighting for a guy like me?”

“Prompto…”  

“Ignis told me that he shouldn’t have let something like that happen... and I get that,” the blond boy’s eyes widened briefly as he punctuated his words with guilt. “But I want you to know he didn’t do anything... except protect me…” 

“Prompto.” Regis called firmly. The boy was probably out of touch by then.

“Please, your Highness,” Prompto moaned softly. “Don’t punish him for something that wasn’t his fault…”

Regis watched as Prompto’s head knocked softly against the smooth elevator walls. The king grinned curiously as the elevator doors slid open. He motioned for one of the guards to retrieve the young man’s body off the floor. 

The king’s entourage followed him down the hall and to the door of Noctis’s apartment. 

Inside, Noctis was still sulking by the glass window showcasing the cityscape below him. He raised his head to see his father flanked by…

“Prompto?” Noctis croaked, leaping away from the window and toward his father. “Dad, what is going on?” Regis watched in mild amusement at his son gaping in confusion as a guard placed his friend’s figure on the couch.

“If I could have some time alone with my son, I would be grateful.” Regis craned his neck into a short bow, offering the guards to take leave elsewhere. The two men departed, albeit cautiously, still confused at the entire situation.

“Come, sit down.” Regis ushered his son into a seat at the kitchen table. 

“Dad…”

“Your friend,” Regis started. “It seems that the guardsmen did not let him inside and he decided to climb into the apartment.” 

“Yeah, like a normal person,” Noctis turned his head toward the sofa. He wasn’t sure whether it was appropriate to laugh and opted to remain as calm as possible.

“Apparently, he wanted to speak with me,” Regis continued. “He wanted to tell me you hadn’t been involved in the altercation at school, and that you should not be punished so severely.”

“He…” While Noctis’s immediate reaction was to distance himself from Prompto’s charade, he could not help but feel a swell of gratitude for his friend. “I couldn’t stand by and have people treat him like shit…”

“I must confess that while young Prompto’s appeal was rather… appealing,” Regis placed a hand on his chin and rubbed pensively. “After some thinking, it did occur to me that my punishment may have been excessive.”

“‘We can’t have the royal name tarnished by petty violence,’” Noctis imitated, both hands curled into circles over his eyes. “Yeah, Ignis told me. I got it.” 

“As much as I am sure that he would have loved your impression of him,” Regis laughed softly. “The perspective Ignis shared with you is but a fraction of a whole.” 

“I don’t…” 

“As I have expressed to you on numerous occasions, I fully support your decision to live independently.” Regis began. “But I do worry.”

At that moment, it seemed that the kitchen lights overhead struck the face of the aging king in an almost sorrowful fashion. Creases were more defined, eyes shining with wisdom and a touch of melancholy.

“While I do not question Ignis’s direction in the slightest,” Regis said, folding his hands on the table. “When I heard you had gotten involved in a fight at school, I could not help but blame myself.” 

“But you didn’t…” 

“Please let me finish,” Regis requested. “When you were a child, I know I was not around as much as I would have liked to… and for that, I apologize.”

“But that…”

“Sometimes, I wondered whether you are happy out here,” Regis said with a soft sigh. “And I worry that you may not be integrating as well as I would have hoped. It is possible, if not probable, that I had punished you a bit more severely out of guilt… for not having raised you right.”

“Dad…” Noctis lowered his eyes in unfamiliar sadness. 

Regis reached for his son’s hand and gripped it firmly. “But after a rather strange interaction with Mr. Argentum, it seems that I do not have to worry very much.” 

“You have a good friend there, Noct,” Regis noted with a nod toward the couch. “He was quite worried about you.” 

“ _He’s_  a good friend,” Noctis muttered shyly.  

“I’m happy for you.” 

“I…” Noctis paused to mediate over his father’s comment. The boy enjoyed his freedom outside the Citadel and never considered himself particularly  _un_ happy. He nonetheless considered Prompto’s presence in his world a permanent bright spot. Noctis never had to talk very much as his partner tended to do much, if not all, of the talking. Even then, it never felt as if he had to work hard to earn Prompto’s friendship, nor did he feel the arbitrary sense of revere that others placed on him.

“I think I’m happy too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t ask me why I wrote this or any other related question. Because I have no idea. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
